A Town of Howls
by Damusan
Summary: One his first solo job Mike, a hunter for the Flame Tamers company, finds himself in the town of Wilk. A remote town in northern Montana with a myth that just may have a ring of truth to it.
1. Chapter 1: Eyes of Green

**A Town of Howls**

 **Chapter 1**

"Damn it, boy! I told you to double-check the locks!" James shouted as he ran out the open gate.

"Sorry sir!" Ethan proclaimed trailing, his voice already showing signs of fatigue. He was a good kid but if he wasn't James' son and free labor, he would have been fired long ago. This is the second time he failed to secure the horse's pen properly. Last time a full-grown stallion wandered off and James never did find the damn thing. It was a promising breeder with buyers lined up in the lower Montana towns. That was thousands of dollars gone for something so stupidly simple. Now it was a set of females that could cost him ten times that amount.

He could still see them walking in the distance, about two hundred yards or so. Their black coats bolded against the falling snow. If they decided to gallop he'd have no chance but thankfully they stayed at a trot. James didn't know if it was the snowfall that kept them cautious or the unfamiliar surroundings, either way, he welcomed the luck.

"Keep up boy, it'll be a bitch to stop both of them by myself!" He shouted. James knew even before looking back that Ethan was fading.

"Too much time on that damn computer. He needed to work more and yell less at that damn game." James mused. He was only at a jog, thinking it would give Ethan a chance to make up some ground but soon he began to give up on him entirely. At Ethan's age, he would have caught up to those horses already, yet his son could barely run without a struggle.

"I'm coming!" Ethan wheezed. James now knew he was on his own.

Then more ill luck, the horses had suddenly decided to ignore the trail. Their new route took them on a more scenic tour up the mountain. One littered with small crevices that, when covered with snow, were almost designed to break legs. James just hoped they would stop to admire the surroundings like those dumb ass tourists that he catches on his property doing that stupid monster tour every summer.

James gave a look of disapproval back at his son. Ethan was even farther back now, putting the last nail in the coffin on the basketball scholarship that seemed so promising two years ago.

"Screw it" James muttered. "I'll show him what he gave up." His strides became large as he broke into a run through the snow. The storm was still a night off but even its outskirts dropped a half inch already.

"This was going to be a bad one." James thought as he followed the horse's tracks deeper into the mountain.

He ran for a good fifteen minutes straight, only resting with slow jogs. The depressions of hooves were all that remained to guide James to his missing pair. Their trail led him to a familiar small valley, one he knew very well from his hunting days. There was even a good size cave near the rear of the passage, one he spent a night in due to a freak thunderstorm. He used to lure deer in there for an easy kill but that was years before horse breeding became priority one.

A sharp whine suddenly echoed out from the valley. James' pace quickened to a run again as he muttered curses for his son's blunder.

"You dumb bastards better not of broken anything!" He said grinding his teeth in anger. James didn't want to have to put them down, that would be an expensive mistake to the boy's college fund.

James weaved through trees and rocks trying to discover the source of the cry only finding more white as he cleared one obstacle after another. Then in a flash, he saw one of the horses galloping towards him. He shook off the surprise long enough to aim her for a group of trees. Even with the shock of its sudden arrival, he knew trying to stop her outright would have ended with him trampled. He raised his arms, waving them slowly back and forth, trying to look as imposing as possible. For a moment the horse stuck to its course but as it closed the distance it tapered off into a line of close-knit trees. She bucked in frustration as she found herself pinned. James quickly rushed up to her not wanting to give her a chance to run again. He took hold of the small harness around her head after one near miss, that almost led to a hoof finding the side of his head.

"Whoaaa girl, easy girl." James pleaded in his sweetest voice which his ex-wife compared to sandpaper, but to him, it seemed to do a pretty good job with the horses maybe it just didn't work on bitches. James laughed to himself as he searched for signs of the other horse. His breath was taken as he found a large black lump on the whited out canyon floor near the mouth of the cave.

"Shit." James barked with his Montana draw, "I am going to kick that boy's ass." He pulled the other horse forward leading them both towards the fallen shape. He only made it a few steps before the horse objected by bucking up on to its back legs which almost yanked James clear off the ground.

"What's with you?" He questioned as he turned to his reclaimed horse. That's when he noticed it, obscured on the opposite side of the horse, there was blood... a lot of blood. Three large gashes were torn down her side. They seemed to be claw marks but their size made no sense, even if it was one hell of a big bear. He stared trying to make sense of them as he fought to keep the horse under control. Another loud whine came from behind. It was the desperate scream of his other horse that cut into his ears like a dagger. Then in an instant, it was silenced with the loud crack of bones that echoed off the rocks. He quickly turned to find the former black mass was now covered by a gray hulking figure.

At first, James thought a boulder had come loose from the cliff side and finished the horse. Though that thought was quickly pushed aside as the mass seemed to be breathing. He no longer questioned the horse's hesitation but James still stood his ground. Even against the agitated horse's pulls, he was determined to see what took his mare, and more importantly his money. Yet that desire eroded as two large emerald eyes rose to meet his gaze.

Bareback always hurt his junk but in that moment, comfort was irrelevant, he just hoped the horse wouldn't succumb to its wounds before he was well away from this place. Even if it ended up dying he would call it a good investment. The horse's terror seemed to be more of a factor than its pain and they were back at the ranch within ten minutes.

Ethan was at the gate, head low in defeat as he saw his father riding back at full tilt. He knew his father hated bareback and in his eighteen years, he never saw the man do it once. So as he saw his father riding without a saddle and at a gallop, he knew it was not good news.

"Close the gate boy!" His father yelled as he rode through the opening. Ethan was confused as he didn't even stop to sculled him. Something was really wrong and if he made his old man wait it would only get worse.

Ethan closed the gate hard. The rebound almost toppling him as he slammed it into place. He did a double check that it latched properly this time and then was in a sprint to the stable where he found his father with a bottle of whiskey aimed high and draining fast.

He had tried to find that bottle for years in the barn but his father took care not to give him any hints on its location. Yet, here he was, his spot a hollowed hay bale, lying on the ground with one side open.

"Dad?!" concern riddled Ethan's voice as he saw his dad sweating profusely.

His father gave no notice as he gulped down the last of the bottle. He pulled it away giving a labored breath as he turned to his son, blood soaked into various parts of his clothing.

"Call Vanessa for the horse... and call the Sheriff." James labored to get out.

"What?!" Ethan question but his father's frightened expression sent him into the house in search of the phone.


	2. Chapter 2: A Walk in the Snow

**Chapter Two:**

 **A Walk in the Snow**

I've always loved the snow. It had a way of brightening the night with its cold beauty. It's like God herself is trying to make the world just a little less wicked. The unexpected days-off from school wasn't bad either but as an adult, you work regardless. The only gift I receive now from it is a grateful dulling of an old pain. I'd really be tempted to call a blizzard-prone place like this home if it wasn't so damn hard to walk in.

"Urgh..." I groaned, foot collapsing into the white powder.

Being proactive was smart but these stupid snowshoes did little to aid my work driven walkabout. Not too surprising, considering everything. I just wished they didn't cost three hundred dollars... a piece...

"The best my ass." Odds were fifty-fifty I'd stay on top. Coincidentally, that was their chances of surviving this trip without being snapped in half.

"Should have saved the money." Jenni's voice crackled through my bulky earpiece. I could imagine the expression. The condescending blue eyes, with the 'I told you so' smile. I've seen it hundreds of times, even dreamt it. Thankfully, I thought it was cute.

"May I never doubt you again." I acknowledged reluctantly.

"Make sure you do." She crackled back.

"How's the storm looking?" I queried, hoping for a change of subject.

A thin crust of ice snaps as another step plummets down to the knee. This was going to be a hell of a long walk at this rate. Even with my height, just over six feet, my stride gave little advantage in this snow.

"You didn't even haggle. Never wonder why I keep you away from the finances." she proclaimed, pulling me back.

"Because we have so much in terms of qualified candidates."

Our company had a grand total of two full-timers. The smallest company in the monster hunter business, at least when it comes to being recognized by the major players. Our focus was the lighter fair. Groups of the lower creatures, zombies, wights, chupacabras, really anything of low intelligence was our main money maker but we do go after single entities of the tougher ones. If it turns out to be too big, we contract help from the bigger players, 'The Kids from Maine' or 'MHI.' So her choices were overall limited, but even if we had a thousand, I'd wager she still run the numbers.

I took moment to shake off the snow from my hair. Freshly cut, it was a little short of the eye which bugged me to no end. Still gave the girl a full tip though. What can I say, I'm a fool over a jerk. Some strains slivered behind my glasses acting like tiny whips in the wind. I swiped a hand through, clearing them into my normal mess of a style.

"As for your previous question, the storm is still set to taper off around twenty-three hundred."

I stayed silent.

"Eleven tonight." She sighed.

"I know." I didn't but I would have... eventually.

Her past training was militaristic in all aspects. Well to be accurate, it was more like business casual mercenary camp. They inspired her current training regiments but her added flare made the former look like summer camp. Calling them rigorous was a gross understatement. Took me two months before I stopped vomiting after each session. Now, two years later, it was the sole reason I didn't spill over into an exhausted snow angel.

Another step and another cavern.

"Screwing PT Counseling out of this PUFF almost doesn't seem worth this frustration." I said pulling my left foot out of eight inches of wet snow.

"That's the only reason I let you go solo." Her tone serious.

"I did say, 'almost.' "

"Sending my rookie to scout with no real backup, cut-off from any form of extraction is quite a stupid decision."

"Thought you said I graduated from Newbie."

"You're correct. Rookie." She playfully jabbed.

"You weren't calling me that when I suggested getting ahead start on your old company."

"An error in judgment. I admit."

'PT Counseling.' Possibly the biggest asshats in the business in North America and I came to that conclusion after one short meeting. In that same encounter, Jenni knocked one of them clean out with a right hook to the chin that whenever I recalled the incident I described it as 'magical.' After that, she broke four of another guy's fingers who tried to restrain her.

Can't blame her for it, they practically begged for it to happen by dusting off those old wounds like that. They knew better, she was their first and so happens last, woman field team member. That was until she dislocated the CEO's jaw after a greedy call got two squadmates killed and almost cost her a leg. She was fired, blamed for it, and even sued for assault by the CEO. She currently has part of the court transcript framed on her wall. It was two full paragraphs of the CEO recounting the assault. Her favorite parts were bolded.

"I should be on point." Jenni's remark had an edge of tension to it. I needed to calm her down or she would be out the door in the next minute.

"You'd be carrying more equipment in service of the weather than the job. I don't really have that problem and we both know you get cranky without your toys." I said hoping she wouldn't start crawling her way up here.

"They're tools, not toys." Her tone smoothed out.

Jenni's normal loadout would be close to impossible to carry up here by hand, even if we had a week. My kit was of a lighter fair. A set of dark grey cargo pants and a thick long sleeve shirt was all I needed, the rest was optional. The kevlar vest and the assortment of body armor plates on the legs and one piece of flair in the ensemble was a personalized shoulder cape that covered my whole left arm. It was a little gauche but it wasn't there out of an odd sense of fashionability.

The arsenal was my standard fair. A custom machine pistol with six extra mags all corralled in a homemade holster on my right leg. This beauty made reloading one-handed surprisingly simple and quick. Two reinforced hand axes lied cradled in the vest. Finally, there was a trio of spears lashed to my back. Their design was unique, centered around throwing but they weren't bad when it came time to be personal. Most hunters I met called it downright ill-equipped but for me, it's how it had to be.

Shallow clinks of metal played in the earpiece.

Jenni was lifting weights. She must really be annoyed, she always lifts when she's annoyed.

"You'll properly shoot a civvie before anything with a PUFF." She said, more to herself then me.

"You know I'm technically a civvie too."

"You were included in that statement."

I laughed all the way down to the bottom of another hole.

The GPS was a dog in this weather, I just hoped it wouldn't take me someplace other than Wilk. A place with a population of five hundred or so would be easy to miss in this snow. It mostly served as a schooling hub for the surrounding counties, K through twelve. Other than that, a large wood mill was the only thing of note and it was closed in these winter months. Ranchers, the majority of its residents, dotted the outskirts. All of them probably locked inside to ride this out with a tall bottle of whiskey. Same goes for the town, the local bars would always make money in these storms. There isn't much else to do in this weather. Hopefully, there'd be someone sober enough to ask for directions.

The GPS pinged. "One Mile," it read before its face flashed "Finding Signal." The good news was it didn't matter anymore, I could finally see the lights peeking through the tree line about a half a mile off.

I drew a smile, elated that this trip was coming to an end. The remaining snowshoe tugged at my right boot as the pace quickened. Its brother was about a mile back, forcefully jammed into a tree trunk. It was a bit of an overreaction but man did it feel great.

My thoughts turned to a bar, not for the job but the drink. My tongue ran across my lips aching a double shot of... well... anything.

I shook out my legs as I reached the trees. These things were old pillars of timber. Their bases thick and they reached tall. They were here before the town and they'd probably be after.

I leaned against the first one I came across. My feet were on the verge of mutiny but that went unheard as I noticed the wounds.

Every tree showed scars. Each of them was in different stages of healing. The bark on some had completely regrown, the brighter color of the newer bark being the only give away. They were a mixture of ages, some years, others decades and a few were only days. Their cambium was still freshly tan.

That was the good news, this tip wasn't a waste of time. The bad news was in their sheer size. My guess was about four feet in length, each as wide as three of my fingers. They seemed to be in groups of three or four.

"Looks like you owe your informant a bonus," I said tapping my ear for the mic.

"What did you find!?" Jenni asked in a fever. Even with the distortion, I could hear the smug satisfaction.

"Fresh markings on a treeline, pretty big too." I drew my hand over one of the grooves. A chill crawled over my skin as the full weight of a real solo run was finally confirmed.

"How many trees marked?"

I gave a half-assed quick count.

"Four or five fresh, with several more older ones."

"Really? Surprised we didn't hear about this sooner, but let's concentrate on the now. Five should only be amount to one, maybe two if were unlucky. Their territory is outlined by those scratches, about four per head."

"So if it was a pack this whole tree line would look like a group of teenagers in a Freddy Krueger movie?" I mused.

"A stupid analogy but accurate. I never understood how much trouble a zombie in a hockey mask could be. I mean a 40mm round, center mass, and problem solved. I could get it done in an afternoon." Her voice confidently crackled.

"He's not... nevermind." I doubt she had any time for horror movies between the gym and the job. I recalled watching them as a kid and failing to sleep for the next few nights. They really were my favorite genre. That was until the first month of real work. Real life diluted much of their appeal besides a cheap laugh.

"The male's leave their scents at the bases, can you confirm?" Jenni asked.

"Excuse me?" I said knowing the next line.

"Dig near one of the marked trees and confirm a scent." Her tone had a little more command to it. Funny how that came through crystal clear.

"Fine, but I want you to know I won't enjoy this." I dropped to one knee and started digging with one hand. Each scoop my nose braced for a pungent odor, but after four handfuls, only the grass's bright contrast hit me.

"Nothing! Thank you, sweet Jesus." I reported happily.

"Female likely." Her voice became serious, concern peppered throughout. "Mike, you are there for recon only. You scout, find the targets, wait for backup. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. These beasts can be smart, fast and built like a truck." She pauses. "A hunter that acts alone dies alone."

"Is that care in your voice?" I teased.

"That's a decent PUFF there, so don't fuck this up. Over and out." She didn't outright say it but she was worried. Working alone even on routine tasks, well... what could be called routine for a hunter, was ill-advised.

I gave the tree a long hard look.

"This'll be easy." I thought, trying to silence the doubt as I made my way towards town.


	3. Chapter 3: Quiet Little Place

**Chapter 3:**

 **A Quiet Little Place**

Wilk was the definition of a secluded small town. A menagerie of shops packing into one street offering everything from a stiff drink to antique toys. The big store chains were absent leaving the mom and pop shops to flourish. There wasn't even a fast food joint. That was too bad, I would have killed for a few chicken nuggets. The only building that seemed out of place was settled at the end of the main street. It was a monstrously garish thing that lorded over all the others.

Boots hit the white covered curb. I paused under the first street light resting my weight against the pole. That walk was downright murder, I must have burned every calorie I took in over the last week just making it up here. I retrieved a protein bar from one of my cargo pockets. It was a little melted from my body heat but that was nothing new. It's odd how being hungry always made anything taste like a five-star meal.

A banner swayed overhead as I licked the wrapper for every trace of the gooey chocolate substitute. An embroidered wolf was sewed into it, head pointed up in a howl as a basketball colored moon rose in the background. 'Home of the Wolves." it exclaimed. I snickered at the irony.

The first building to greet me into Wilk was naturally the town's welcome center. Its front window was large, open and cooled by a thin coat of fog. I wiped a clearing, the accompanying squeak echoed around the sleeping street. Spying inside pamphlets were lovingly spread out underneath, each a different suggestion. The spotlight, prominently being focused in the center, was the local basketball games. The rest were a mix of local food joints, mountain hiking, climbing, fishing, the same you'd find in any mountain town.

"I had my fill of this mountain, thank you." I thought musing over the rest until one drew my attention. Its presence among the mundane felt like the owner did it out of some begrudging compromise. In the mixture of horse riding lessons and "Rancher for a Day" flyers, there was a surprising sight.

"Hunt for the Green-eyed Beast of Wilk?" I couldn't help but say it aloud. Not only is there one up here but they even have tours for it. Now I was really confused on why no company had looked into this town.

Continuing down the line of shops, life was quiet, only the street lights giving signals of their presence. Rebecca's styling, Barry's barber, Chris' drug and pharmacy, Jill's sandwich shop and Wesker's hardware were all silent. Doors were all locked tight. Nothing unexpected in this weather. However, the next store rubbed me all sorts of wrong.

"Logan's Pub" was imprinted on to the glass. Stillness was the only thing I could see through the dark window, there wasn't even so much as a nightlight. A bar, here, in this snowstorm, was like an oasis in the desert. You really couldn't do much in a storm like this but drink until the place is dry or the snow clears up. People would do it by candlelight if you let them and owners always did. The money they made on days like this was magnificent.

The door shuttered as I tried the handle, dead bolted. Their hours posted on a sun-bleached sign. A crudely markered '2pm - 12am' was scribbled under today's hours. I judged the time was about seven pm, even if I was off by a few hours I'd still be asking for a drink right now. After I stashed my weapons around back, of course.

A little B and E would be easy. Some pain and a little twist of the knob and I'd be inside. Then, knowing my luck, a scared hostess would be phoning the local police screaming about a heavily armed man in her newly converted cafe.

That would be quite vexing to Jenni, she had lost her taste for bribery, after the last small town sheriff. She offered more than a fair amount, her mood was generous having taken out a group of Gowrows. It was one of my first real missions. Jenni did the lion's share of that, very colorful, operation. The noise that came from him after she viced down during their handshake was so cringe-worthy I shed a tear for the greedy bastard. He probably still had issues with his right hand after her polite persuasion talked him into being more 'charitable.' All I did was slash his tires on the way out. I know it was petty, but if the man had a choice I know which one he would have picked.

I searched the street again for anything that had signs of life. Only to find more of that same stillness blanketing everything like it was part of the snowfall. My eyes soon settled on a mechanic's shop that sat across the road. No lights, no movement, no surprise. That was until I noticed the open garage door.

Cautiously I made my way over. Taking care not to trip coming down or going up either of the street's curbs. A sign called this place Burr's Auto, 'Number One Mechanic of the Wolves Basketball Team.' I rolled my eyes, was it some type of subliminal message to get me to buy a tee shirt or something? I gave it a quick slap. The accumulated snow drifted to the ground pulling my attention to a peculiar disturbance.

They were faint but definitely there, remnants of footsteps. Something else had visited this shop. The marks were filled by the storm, leaving only a pattern of depressions barring anything other than guesswork. There was a good amount of them too, I would say about six pairs of thin legs, far too skinny for a human. Unless a rogue gang of eight-year-olds was running around like the children of the damned. Couldn't agree that the town wasn't setting that mood perfectly though. Man, I hated those kids but more distressing was the fact that all the tracks led straight into the open garage.

It was heaven being inside.

"Solid ground was so underrated." I thought kicking off the remaining snowshoe. A small prayer came out vowing never to put another one on again.

The snap of the gun holster's strap coming undone was like a crack of thunder in the silence.

"Hello?!" I waited a few moments as the words when unheeded.

My voice should have been enough to spur action from most creatures but I wasn't letting my gaurd down. The gun would remain in the holster with my hand resting on top of the custom forty-five MAC-10. I wouldn't draw unless I was sure it was a target, less I wanted to cause Jenni's premonition of civilian injury to come true. People thrusted into the world of monsters usually don't take it calmly and one jumping out of some makeshift hidey-hole screaming for help can startle the best of us.

The place felt normal from what I could tell. Having never been here prior, there could have been a car embedded in the ceiling and I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between an accident and some eccentric interior design. Thankfully, the only car was found on the floor settled over one of the work pits. Tools lined the back wall as tires lined their base. It was a tidy place, the owner obviously cared for it.

So when I sniffed something familiar my heart dropped. It was an oily odor that had a tint of copper. Just a quick whiff had my mouth tasting pennies. In these short years, I had sadly gotten used to the smell of blood. That's when I knew this was going to get a lot more complicated.

I've seen a fair share of them, even seen a few walking around trying really hard for an overly aggressive hug. Though the picture that was painted with this corpse was far from just simple bites. The car hid the details but I doubted it was done deliberately. The body was savaged, chest and ribs blossomed out revealing a hollow cavity. The insides were flung about as if there was a rush for the best pieces. Even the head was a mess, devoid of any signs of age or even sex. It was a nightmare of gore that made a hardened stomach twist.

This was clearly not done by the target. The female would be hard pressed to get in here let alone behind the car. I ran down a few common creatures that were known for leaving such... personalized displays.

Undead were known for these kinds of acts. Although it could be easily ruled out with the simple fact the corpse was still here. Judging by how snow-covered the tracks were it had plenty of time to start looking for its own meal.

A werewolf maybe, they could be extra vicious when first turned. Again, the prints outside didn't come close to matching. Thank Christ, taking out one of those things without backup was suicidal. Though there were rumors that some accountant did it years back but that smelled of such drunken hunter self-aggrandizing bullshit. Jenni and I still have a standing bet on it that she won't admit losing. I'm still waiting for the money, even after six months.

Maybe a Wampus? It was definitely a better fit for the tracks but they sucked you dry not tore you apart. They were mean, pissy, big cat bastards that normally shied away from towns. Only taking livestock or the occasional lost hiker. We bagged one that took out a family on a camping trip in North Dakota. Their remains weren't even close to this mess.

Out of ideas, I called it in.

"Arrived in town, one gory Jackson Pollock painting found." I said over the comms. In this work, everyone coped in a different way. Some became serious, no-nonsense killing machines. Others found strength in religion. Some took to the drink like the most hardened sailors. Some did yoga. Mine was a sprinkling of dark humor.

"Repeat... everyth... af... in town..." Jenni's voice crackled harshly in my ear.

"Of course." I chuckled before hitting the mic again. "Corpse found, repeat CORPSE FOUND in town. Unnatural circumstances!" A raised voice never helped with a bad connection but it does make you feel better. That and kicking a car door.

"Cor...pse? How m... find..." Her replies were getting worse.

I couldn't wait to tease her about this equipment failure. She gave me so much shit for the snowshoes after all. These comms must have been quite a sum with the way she hyped them up like the second coming. Teasing her I gave them two, maybe three jobs max before they melted or failed outright. This was job number four... Damn, I was one off.

My only choice was higher ground for a better signal. This meant going through town with some unidentified creature lurking around. Misinformation was worse than no information in this line of work. Packing silver bullets for a werewolf, only to be greeted by an earth golem that eats the stuff is a situation not many hunters live through.

However, staying put was not something Jenni taught me. In this business taking some chances was necessary or you would just die slow.

The gun was drawn and with a whip of my arm the gun's stock snapped securely into place. Its shape was odd but it did amazing work distributing most of the kickback over the forearm rather than the wrist. It was like night and day when it was set. Sadly, didn't quite eliminate the bastard MAC-10's personality, nothing could take the angry drunken mule out of it, but it made it ridable. The part I loved was the fact it needed only one-hand.

With a weighted sigh, I step back out into the snow. The cliched crunch sent a tired ache through my legs.

"Let's get this over with." I thought scanning the street. The white outlined each structure giving a bloated feel to them. Every street light was amplified by the snow as it seemed to play off dozens of natural mirrors. The majority of the buildings were one story affairs with no real way of getting any height. The ones with enclosed second floors were best left avoided. Clearing two whole levels by oneself was risky. What I needed was something like... I spotted one about one block down on the opposite corner of an intersection. A restaurant, or maybe a bar, had a shabby outdoor area for rooftop dining. That will do nicely.

Not too long after crossing the street I sadly discovered the creature's dining habit hadn't been confined to just the mechanic's place. A snowdrift had hidden another body in the archway of a shop. I nearly stepped on it before seeing the outstretched hand in a frozen claw reaching for the store's door. Guiltily I brushed off the layers of snow from the body with my boot, I couldn't afford to be caught on my knees. The farther I went down the more the red consumed the white until the bones of the spine protruded upwards. It mimicked the same brutal style as the previous, though with this one they did not bother flipping him over and went straight through the back. I gave a quiet apology and moved on.

The intersection was surprisingly wide. Its cross-street stretched out of town into the unknown with little decorating either run. Remains of a home, the only one I had seen thus far, lied in a heap of ash and wood about two hundred yards down one of the offshoots. Fire seemingly had claimed it. Embers still peeked with orange eyes as the noticeable smell of firewood permeated the air with each gust of wind. My left arm ached as the slivers of heat drifted over. I gave it a hard shake cursing the feeling, the last thing I needed was an added distraction. All the other building showed scars of various degrees of damage. Broken windows and smashed doors were the most common. Although a few walls had gaping holes torn through them. Something really wanted in. Their size passable if an adult didn't mind crawling. The whole thing felt like it was done by a raiding party of mad Vikings.

"Backup would be nice." I mumbled.

My destination stared at me from the opposing corner, its peaceful demeanor was like some dark invitation to an unhappy ending.

"Well, you only live once." An amusing thought until the image of a vampire played in my head. I gave a small chuckle as I double checked my weapon, then in a burst, I rushed across the street.

'The Drunken Drifter' was another bar. Its demeanor more rusticly humble then 'Logan's.' This seemed to upset someone as the front window was completely shattered inwards. The same thin prints from the garage marked the area. Glass and snow decorated the first ten feet of the inside, covering high tables, chairs and even some of the bar. This being a corner shop another large window faced the main street. Thankfully it was still intact with a menagerie of colored flyers blocking a good portion of the view at eye height. Anything that hid my presence was welcome.

Even on the lip of entry, I whiffed a familiar smell. I quickly played with the idea of finding another roof. I dismissed it quickly. For now, whatever invaded this town didn't seem to noticed my intrusion and another stroll might not be so lucky.

The bigger pieces of glass snapped and splintered as I stepped over the former window's frame. Its interior had signs of a struggle, furniture was a disarrayed mess. The street lights gave enough illumination to catch fresh crimson coating most of it. I slowly headed towards the bar, it would make a decent bunker if I was dealing with anything that could fight at a range. Two stools squeaked as I pushed inwards against the bar. My little 45-millimeter mule always at the ready. The bar's stock was decent from what the darkness didn't hide, driving my want for a nip of whiskey into almost a necessity.

Looking before you leap was a cliche but I was glad for it. Behind the bar, tucked into the corner, another mangled body was gutted. Torn to ragged chunks, innards littered the back area. The thing went right through the man's bright orange hunter's jacket and judging by the absence of the pieces, whatever did this didn't stop to spit them out.

The opposite side fared no better, another set of remains sat under a dart board. A chair gripped tight in her hands. This woman must have put up some type of fight as her body was not in tatters but that didn't mean they let her off easy. She must have gotten a couple of good shots in before the end. One of the chair legs snapped to a point and glowed with a faint orange glow. The creature's blood if I was lucky. I gave a nod of respect to her fight.

I settled back against the bar. The events had my head racing for conclusions of the culprit. Truth was I had no idea, which only helped to increase my nerves. Placing my gun on the bar I started to fish behind the counter with my right hand. I didn't care what I pulled up just that it was liquor.

The bottles gave a clink as I found them corralled together and with a random hand I pulled one free. I didn't bother reading the label a quick sniff would be enough. It was a sweet honey smell giving it away as some type of cheap whiskey. Not really my thing but I let it bite my tongue anyway. I surrendered to the stool as I let the hot liquid dull the pain of the day.

This bar was a place I could have seen myself in joying if I got out much other then the job and the decor wasn't so... raw. I looked around imagining the past. The slab of a door, even without the crude barrier of tables and chairs, must have been a bitch to open in this weather. To bad whatever this thing was didn't exclusively use only doors. The remaining large window was filled with more than just flyers. Pictures of the patrons lined the outer frame detailing their lives before the end. My heart ached, nothing deserved to go out this way, even the guilty. I follow the frozen scene of smiling face from top to bottom until my gaze met another's.

Every muscle in my body went tight as I stared into a pair of orange eyes that sat on the other side of the glass.


	4. Chapter 4: Eyes of Orange

**Chapter 4:**

 **Eyes of Orange**

This wasn't good in the slightest... Its details were hidden by a layer of condensation. What I could tell was this thing was generating some heat. Even on the other side of the window, I could feel the warmth and a yearning from my concealed arm.

There were only the two orbs of blazing orange to give it away. They floated there, about two feet from the ground, aimed straight at me. The menace they gave off was so palpable it alone was enough to send my hand to the holster, an empty holster...

I screamed every curse I knew in my mind. That was newbie level shit right there and if I lived through this mistake Jenni would rightly say them aloud. My throat burned as I swallowed hard, instantly longing for another swig of the whiskey. The bottle of which still sat at my right hand, the glow playing off it with surprising effect.

The pair tilted in a ponderous gesture. They were eerily fluid in their inspection of the foggy barrier. Then in a strangely fluid motion, they receded leaving me alone once again.

"Shit..." I groaned knowing what was coming.

The creature sprang forward showering bits of glass into the place like a claymore. Pieces slammed against my armor with shocking sounds, like rain on a tin roof. My right hand sprang up guarding my face but a few shards pierced the skin. The trickle of warm blood was unmistakable as the thing landed in the middle of the dining area.

The beast was an ugly dog-like thing. Fur the color of charcoal that clung tight to its body in matted toughs. Some pieces of its body seemed to have ruptured. The back was the most egregious, looking like someone stitched a football between the skin and spine. That bubble was barely holding everything in, as a spider's web of fissures ran over its hunchback. Each crag held the same orange glow as the eyes that tracked me.

Fangs were bared in a sickly grin. Not that I needed it to smile to see the front canines. Both on the top and bottom were six-inch daggers that jutted out like a sabertooth. It seemed eager to show them off opening its mouth wide, unnaturally so. The lower jaw cracked as it dislocated hinging flat against its chest. It took a bar-stool into the gaping maw and splintered it into chunks as it wrenched its jaw shut. I had definitely never seen a monster like this before, yet it had a familiarity to it that I couldn't shake. Though I didn't have a chance to ponder it for long as it charged straight at me.

My left had one hell of a mean throw but I wasn't too shabby with the right. The whiskey bottle whipped through the air striking the beast straight in the snout. A satisfying ping rang as the head was propelled downwards. The whiskey ricocheted off into the ceiling shattering into A dusting of glass.

The adulation short-lived as the creature's momentum sent it careening into my chest. A hardened body of bone and muscle rammed me with a devastating effect sending me clear over the bar. The top's aged and jagged counter raked my back as I skidded over it. Bottles clanged and shattered as I collapsed to the floor face first on to the dead body.

"Uhhh, Christ" I groaned in disgust. The corpse squished and cracked as I spun to my back.

The beast, thankfully, remained on the other side. Furniture was crashing about as it tried to make sense of what just happened. I got to my knees, chest radiating pain, that thing was like a slab of concrete. Peering just high enough to see the bartop, I frantically search for the machine-pistol. The wood counter was bare of anything other then splinters, my impromptu trip knocking it to the floor at some point.

I moved on to one of my other weapons. The spears I carried would be troublesome to free from their back cradle in this tiny area. My hand axes were the better option. They were two Custom Shifletts that were tucked into leather sheaths on my kevlar vest. Normally, these little guys were designed to be thrown but I had gotten them personally reinforced by an acquaintance in the industry. Increased weight with thicker steel pulled together with a titanium coating. These things were heavy, durable and sharp as all hell. The cheap thirty dollar toy had metamorphosed into a thousand dollar weapon that hit like a ten-pound bowling ball.

In one fluid, rehearsed, motion I pulled one free. Standing, I glanced over the bar's edge. That damned beast was out of sight, only the fumbling of furniture revealing its presence.

"Come on." I whispered with the axe held high.

The commotion ceased as a final stool toppled to the floor. My heartbeat was loud enough to consume the silence. Thoughts of its inevitable attack pushing it to beat at the rate of most dubstep. Yet, the only thing to come was a sharp tapping of the creature's nails against the wooden floor.

One tick, two ticks, three ticks, each time trailing farther away.

"Where was it going?" I wondered, trying to position the noise. The haze of confusion was lifted as its eyes found me. Dishearteningly, they were with me behind the bar, on the far side. The damn thing had gone under the bartender's entrance.

Wasting no time after it confirmed my position, it charged again. Suppressing that panicked urge to swing wildly was maddening, only a good hit was going to keep me from a torn throat. I clenched my teeth hard, waiting for that moment its body shifted for the jump. In one bound the hind legs dipped down preparing to spring the monster forward. Everything I could muster had gone into the descent. The axe's edge struck the base of its hunchback with a sickening slap. It yelped as orange pus exploded from the impact like a popped balloon. The head twisted sharply. I prayed it was from the pain because when its body rammed my chest again I felt just that. My feet were braced for the swing, not the impact, and proved no match for the blood-slick ground. I found myself on a return trip to the other side the bar.

"Getting real tired of this!" I wheezed as I got to my knees.

My back came down hard through a table. The impact knocking the wind straight out of me, even saw a few stars twinkling. When they cleared I saw a familiar metal grip lying a few feet away. Whatever it was, luck or stupidity I just had to smile. My MAC-10 had slipped under the lip of the bar. My right hand scooped it up and with a quick flick, the stock was re-set with a satisfying snap. Verifying the breach was clear, I took aim at the bar.

I couldn't stand, the pain was to fresh but hell if I didn't try. My diaphragm spasmed so hard I swore it was doing the cha-cha. Thankfully the creature seemed to be having a similar tantrum. Bottles smashed, glasses snapped and metal pinged as it thrashed behind the bar.

"I hope it hurts!" I coughed out. "Now give me back my axe!" My words were more of a bluff then any kind of a threat. Yet it seemed to take the latter as it became quiet.

Orange eyes slowly peeked out from the bartenders' entrance. They were cautiously slow, scanning the room until they found me a third time. In an instant, they sunk back into the shadows of the bar. Then with a bolt of speed, it sprinted for the front window. This thing could move, even with a foot and a half piece of metal in its back. Whether it was intentional or not the tables and chairs that littered the room gave the beast a good amount of cover. Paired with my current handicap I couldn't get close to a clean shot. The blue balls I felt at that moment were almost legendary.

With a grunt through gritted teeth, I finally got to my feet. Being here when that thing came back was not in my best interest. Every step stung as I willed myself forward. To my relief, a little less each time, until I found the stairs and headed up.

The chill became more intense as I limped up the creaking boards. It crescendoed with the purchase of the door handle. It's cold felt amazing in the short time before my temperature overruled it. The snow-covered roof acted like some bastard doorstop as it fought against a few hard shoulders. Only after a half dozen did it relent. My boots gave the tiredly familiar sound of crunching snow as I stepped out onto the roof. Lungs were still aching but starting to settle as I headed to the overlook.

The little place they had up here was cute. It had a small roof that protected the dining area although the storm still covered everything with a good dusting. I surveyed the street, combing for signs of the axe thief. Two trails were pressed into the snow at the front window. The first ran down the sidewalk towards the grandiose building that towered over the town. Orange splotches marked the tracks revealing the creature's exit path. The other stretched from the far side of the road moving into a thin alley a few buildings up. The mouth of which had its snow-packed tight. That beast spent a lot of time there for some reason, possibly a shelter or maybe even a nest. I needed some intel.

"Jenni, you with me?" I called into the mic. The silence of the static was the only answer. "If you can hear me I've come in contact with a 'unique' creature. About two and a half feet tall walks on all fours and orange Gatorade for blood. This is not the target. Repeat not the target."

My leg was nervously jittering up and down waiting for any type of acknowledgment. If she was talking, I wasn't hearing it. Frustration boiled sending my left fist down into one of the patio tables. Snow flowered up as the metal bent inward from the impact. My knuckles stung as I stretched out my fingers. It wasn't good for a hunter to lose his cool to anger but the pain sometimes helped clear one's head. I was going to have to do this on my own, and blind. I only could be thankful for the fact there was only one.

A howl cracked the air. Unlike a wolf, its bellow had an extreme amount of bass to it. I swore I heard some of the windows in the town vibrate as it echoed.

"I hope it hurts!" I shouted mockingly.

To which several howls, to my dismay, replied in unison. All the windows shook as the calls flooded the town.

This was not going to be fun. I couldn't even get an accurate estimate of their numbers as the echo played hell with the calls. I gauged my options, laughing at how useless they really were. I needed to channel them to have a chance, get them to come one at a time. Trying to take out several in open area would end quickly and not in my favor. Well even with the perfect placement I didn't have great odds. If Jenni was here, with her tailored arsenal, I wouldn't be worried. Just thinking about that made me yearn for the support as I waited for the howls to die down.

I pushed down the thoughts with a deep breath. No good came from dwelling on what fate could be, I needed to remember the training. Make sure these things earned every inch. I stretched out my left arm and made my way back to the roof's entrance. Taking these creatures on the stairs might make a nice kill box. They'd hopefully trip up on each other giving time for a few extra mags. It was decent but still... One easily sprinted off with an embedded metal axe in its back, so a few dozen bullets may not take them down fast enough. I wanted to scream. It would be a last act of defiance to the beasts. I drew in breath readying for a fierce cry until another voice broke the calm.

"Hey!" Someone shouted.

Surprised, I rushed back to the overlook. Frantically I scanned the area for the source.

"HHHHHeeeeeeyyyyy!" Another yell came, this time I picked it out as female and she stood on a roof that flanked the beast's alley.

She stood on some type of bank. Its age evident from the old thick stone walls. A spire-like crown sat at its face, clock adorning its center. Gold lettering set underneath, peppered with snow, but still legible, "Wilk First Bank." The thing was ancient but seemed like a tank would have trouble getting in.

"You need to get to the alley!" she screamed urgently. Her arms frantically gestured down. Straight into the place where the beast first came from.

There was no time to think, the howls were getting louder. I could only trust this unknown and hope it wasn't some type of trap. My hand shot over a thumbs up as I hurried to the roof's ledge. It wasn't that far, maybe ten to fifteen feet down. I'd be fine normally but with this equipment, it wouldn't be risk-free. She was becoming more animated crushing any type of hesitation. I held my breath and stepped off the edge.

Snow flowered out as my boots smashed down to the sidewalk. My body rolled sideways trying to dissipate the force of a sudden stop. The spears made the act more comical than anything graceful but it was better than wasting the time backtracking down those stairs. I glanced down the road and in the silhouette of that giant building I could see shadows approaching.

My eyes wouldn't leave the approaching shapes even as I tripped down the curb. They were a few of blocks off but I made out four distinct creatures. Their sizes varied. The two in the middle were much in line with the one from the bar, though one seemed strangely thin compared to the others. That did not bother me as much as the two others that dwarfed them at each end. They must have been double in mass, at the very least. They all ran, feet or maybe paws, kicking up white as the rushed down the street.

"Shit." I said pushing harder in the snow. The spears slapping my back as I pulled them tight to fight their mad jostling.

I entered the alley at a full run almost losing my footing on a slushy mix of snow and ice. The one from the bar must have spent a lot of time as the ground was littered with paw prints, some even peeking through to the pavement. A car would have a hard time getting in, which made it a terrible choke point as they could come in three-wide easily. There wasn't even a dumpster to hide in. This was no place to make a last stand, so she better have a reason for leading me there or this was going to be a short fight.

A woman's face appeared from over the side. Her hand pointing to the wall below her. There were wipes snaked along up the exterior, birthing out of a reinforced electrical box that sat a ground level.

"Climb!" she screamed.

It seemed doable but not with one hand. I hesitated until a new voice called out.

"Getting closer!" a male voice shouted dulling by the roof.

"Catch." I yelled tossing my gun up to the woman.

She instinctively reached for it. Her eyes went wide when the realization hit, but to her credit, she caught it with only a small bobble. I started to climb, one hand grabbed the main pipe as the other held on to the electrical box. The metal tube was like ice in my right hand urging me to let go. I squeezed harder not letting the thought grow stronger until I hoisted myself up onto the electrical box. It was a skinny perch, barely enough room for the length of my boot. The height wouldn't do either, only about five feet from the alley's pavement. If those things could jump like the first one I was well within reach.

An angry growl came from my left. My head shot to the entrance of the alley, almost causing my boot to slip on the wet metal. It was my friend from the bar again, axe included. I made for the next set of pipes, ignoring the incoming threat, I'd have no chance with my attention solely on it. The beast knew its opportunity was shortening and it darted forwards nails clicking against the exposed concrete. It didn't have to kill me, just delay until its friends came to help pull me down for a late night snack.

"Damn damn damn." I said as my boots repeatedly lost traction with a sharp squeak. I risked a glance at the beast, it wasn't far off, a step or two and I was finished. Its back hunched down as its legs readied for the leap. I braced waiting for the impact. Then a familiar sound bounced off the walls of the alley.

What little snow there was exploded around the beast's feet before sprouting from the thing's back. The first few slammed into the thicker legs giving off the sound of meat slapping down on a countertop. The bullets weren't penetrating enough to stop it, only when a few found their way to the orange sack on its back did the creature notice. It gave out a primal cry as it collapsed in full run, skidding underneath me until it collided hard in the electrical box with a slam of metal.

I started to climb again, glancing up to see the woman still pointing the muzzle at the now stunned creature. The gun clicked, empty, even with the extended mag it went through its thirty-four rounds in less than two seconds. She had a good head on her not wasting time on a second pull. She tossed the gun behind her, hurriedly extending her arm forward. A smile formed as I took her hand in my right. She vigorously pulled giving everything she had in order to help. My hands were inches from the roof's edge but I still didn't have the height.

"They're here!" a man said as he appeared next to the woman.

"Hurry! Grab that pipe." she commanded. I did not like it when people saw my left and that request would give the newcomer a front row show. I hesitated as she scowled.

"Do it! You idiot!" she screamed.

From below I could hear the chaotic sounds of growls and barks from the mouth of the alley. The notes of shyness dissolved in an instant. I grabbed the pipe hard, the metal softened as it buckled from my grasp.

His expression was perplexed. My hand was far from baby smooth. Scar tissue covered the majority. The stretched and pruney skin was a warm red from where heat had popped and cooked the blood vessels. Although, that wasn't what I hated about it. That was reserved for the odd symbols that somehow still shown through the carnage. I was just grateful the shoulder cape snagged on some pipe hiding the rest of the limb. He shrugged in what seemed like disbelief until the woman shouts brought him back.

"Grab it Mason!"

His hand shot forward.

"That's kind of you but not advisable. Help her!" I gestured to the girl who now held my right like a vice.

The creatures were now in a frenzy below me. They took turns leaping up. Jaws snapped as their claws raked the sides of the stone walls trying to find purchase. I was almost fully on the roof now and I still felt them hit my boots on every jump.

We all gave a labored grunt as I finally clear the lip. The three of us slammed down against the roof, exhausted.

Each of us laid there as the beasts' savage calls of a lost meal washed over us.


	5. Chapter 5: Rooftop Meetings

**Chapter 5:**

 **Rooftop Meetings**

Each breath was like a mountain of clouds in the icy air. My heart-rate, which still raced, failed to settle for several minutes. Close calls were a rarity in the business, more often than not you just ended up dead or a few limbs short.

Questions flew from my new acquaintances as soon as I hit the roof but all I could do was raised a hand, gesturing for time. Any answers I gave would be incoherent between the gasps for breath. Their eagerness was understandable, but they gave me my space. I'd have to thank them for that later.

The noises that came up from the alley were a bastard of hatred and hunger. The beasts hadn't given up completely, claws scraped off the bank's wall as they desperately tried to climb up. Sounds of infighting started to swell as the frustration of the lost meal turned them on each other. Growls turned to barks, then into snaps as they laid into one another.

"Hope you choke." I thought over the echo of yelps.

Then with a bark, so baritone I felt it in the tips of my finger. Anyone one who was unaware may have mistaken it for a ship's horn. They fell silent before the bellow ended. If this was a pack of some kind, their alpha had apparently spoken.

"They're doing that thing again." The male announced in a rather calm voice. This guy was either in shock or had an impressive amount of self-control. Most people just had a mental breakdown when faced with these brushes with the unnatural.

"Yes, they are." I heard the woman agree.

A single pair of footfalls marched towards me. The pace had a determined stride that would ignore any request for another moment. God, I hated this, Jenni was a hell of a lot more practiced at dealing with people new to these situations. My worst fault was never knowing where to start.

"We're probably going to die." I said sitting up with a laugh. Man, I really was the worst at this.

The footsteps abruptly stopped.

"We all will eventually but let focus on today." The woman replied.

I took a knee as I rolled up taking extra care that my left arm remained hidden behind the thick kevlar of the cape.

"Sadly, that's the more likely outcome." I said with a half-hearted smile.

She was no where near short, although not to the height that made the more insecure male hesitate in talking to her. Tired blue jeans drove down into a pair of dark brown cowboy boots. They were well worn, adorn with scars that littered the leather like tattoos. Her coat was strikingly feminine in comparison. It was what some would call 'city like' in this rural area. It's purple puff style led well past the waist. A little big for her but it failed to conceal her sporty frame completely. The hood was up, black fur lining the edge making her face pop all the more in the white background.

Her face held a tired pale complexion. It failed to hide that fact that she was quite cute. Her dark eyes squinted at me as strands of grey fell out of her hood. Then she pointed to the side of her cheek and motioned across it.

"Are you hurt?" She asked with hints of the northern Montana accent.

My face scrunched up in confusion as I tried to decipher the meaning. I swiped two fingers mimicking her gesture. The tips slowed as they crossed a wet sticky sludge that was caked on my cheek. I pulled them away to the sight of dark red ooze. Likely a souvenir from the body behind the bar that broke my fall.

"Not mine." I groaned taking a sleeve to the cheek.

She sighed relieved.

"That's good. Do you have any medical supplies?"

I shook my head. Bullets I had, gauze I did not.

"That's too bad." The relief washed away with a forced smile.

She soon waved me to follow her. As we walked I spotted the man who helped in my rescue still spying down into the alley. They seemed to have set up a watch, smart. The woman gave him a pat on the back as we passed. He gave a small nod of acknowledgment never shifting his gaze.

"I'll tell you if they start acting up again." He said with a grizzled voice.

We made our way over to a second man. His back sat against the far corner. This one seemed in bad shape, his face had no real color and his breathing was shallow. I could feel his body temperature had lowered quite a degree compared to the other two. It would be a miracle if this man lasted the night.

The woman knelt down tending to the man.

"How is he?" I asked, knowing full well it wasn't good.

"He lost a lot of blood." She answered, carefully undoing his coat. A shirt, crimson with blood, was tied around his midsection acting as a makeshift bandage. "One of those things got a real good hold on him before we got up here."

He groaned in agony as the shirt was peeled from his skin. The wound was nasty with several puncture marks outline like a U shape, some still trickling with blood. If the beast had pulled while the jaws were secured he'd be missing half of his stomach. The fact that it didn't was the most surprising thing tonight. With teeth like their's, they wouldn't let go unless they wanted to.

I juggled an idea around. It wasn't something I liked to do, especially with strangers. However, this man needed any help he could get. My boot scraped the roof as I cleared a place to the man's right. The whole time the woman gave me a quizzical look but said nothing. She just continued to refasten the bandage. Once the roof peeked out I plopped down. Spears banged against the roof's lip as I rested my shoulder against the wounded man.

"Body heat." I smiled.

Her face was littered with obvious skepticism but she didn't object.

"You… you came from across the street?" the man croaked. His eyes were heavy as he fought to keep them open.

"Yeah, the bar on the corner." I replied. He tried to sit up but the woman gently held him down.

"Did you see a man there? Stupid ass orange jacket?" He winced.

I thought back to the one from behind the bar, the one torn to pieces. The woman leered at me, with an unspoken request for a lie. She probably didn't want to agitate him in this state but the man deserves the truth even an unwanted one.

"He didn't make it out, I'm afraid."

"Are you sure!?" The woman asked searching for hope on the man's behalf.

"Intimately." I said thumbing towards my cheek.

The man's face shifted to sorrow when his fear was confirmed. The woman brought his head in close to her's.

"I'm so sorry Dale... Your brother was a good man, a very good man. He was such a kind soul, I am sure you'll meet him again someday, but that can't be today. He gave his life so you could have tomorrow. Don't waste that." She took his hand in her's as his sobs started. "Let's make it through this for him, Dale." Dale took in a deep breath, the pain in his face replaced with a termination as he looked at her and nodded softly.

I don't know who this woman was but after a speech like that, I almost shed a tear for a man I had never known. It was impressive how she was so strangely good at delivering bad news. I sat, waiting for her to be ready. Dale soon slipped into unconsciousness.

The back of her hand rested against his forehead, as a glimpse of surprise spread across her face.

"Really?!" She said.

"Will wonders never cease." I jested standing to my feet. She picked herself up and motioned towards the far side of the building.

I nodded and we started walking.

Our first steps were an uneasy silence. Neither of us knew the other and my outfit didn't scream friendly. A man you have never seen before comes to town loaded to bear with several odd choices of weapons along with a half dozen killer creatures. Skeptical would be the most common reaction and to my dismay the correct one. A peace offering was in order.

I tapped her shoulder with a protein bar in hand. She greedily snatched it tearing open the wrapper like an animal. It was finished in three bites. Just how long have they been up here?

"Sorry, if it was a little melted." I said. At once her face twisted with frantic guilt. I raised one hand. "I have a few more."

She let out a heavy sigh.

"Thank Christ for that! I would have hated myself for hogging what little food we had. We've all had a share in this nightmare and they deserve some too. Would it be asking to much for a pop to go with it?"

"I'm all out of soda." I chuckled as I always did to the word 'pop.' You really could tell where someone grew up by the way they as for a coca.

"Why are you here eastern boy?" She asked as we came up to look over the main street.

"Why does anyone do anything, money. I work for a company that hunts things like that." I gestured towards the alley. "Although whatever those things are, they're not what I was expecting. Frankly, they've thrown everything to hell."

"Wait wait wait wait." Her hand shook wildly. "You're telling me that there is enough of those things out in the world that y'all made a company for it?"

"Enough for dozens of companies all around the world. We're a tiny thing compared to the majors, someone like MHI or PT. As for those things they're just one in a pool of thousands of, well monsters."

Wonderment, curiosity, anger, distrust, fear, disbelief they were all there in her expression. Although whenever she started to settle on one it quickly washed away as another one crashed into it. She paced in a small three-step pattern, each step swaying between comprehension and confusion and back. Questions played on the tip of her tongue.

"Who is... there... How many... Companys..." She paused, took a deep breath and simply asked. "Why?!"

"Monster Control Bureau, the MCB or as you would know them, the government. They keep knowledge of everything under tight control. They give out some creative cover story when one of these…" I swept my hand over the town. "incidents happen. They bribe or threaten survivors with jail or just label them a nutjob. They're very good at the nutjob part, I honestly think they have a whole division devoted to it." I've seen the aftermath of their work. It's neat, skillful, masterfully executed and thorough. I would have been impressed by it if it wasn't so monstrously cruel. "If your still stubborn after that, 'accidents' will happen."

She was still, as she stewed over the information.

"So you work for them?" She finally asked.

I snickered at the question.

"I sure as shit hope not, but they do pay me. The government allows us, 'independent contractors…'" I said that last words with a waggle of my head on every syllable. "to take out these monsters for a PUFF. That's a Perpetual Unearthly Forces Fund or a bounty."

"Oh…" She trailed off.

This is not the first time I've seen a person react to the truth but she handled it better than most. By that, I meant she wasn't going into a curse riddle tirade of confused fear and fury. She did, after all, survive with those things running around. That's the type of experience that leaves you open-minded to other possibilities.

I gave her a moment to take everything in but I doubted even a few days would be enough for her. With those monsters, we'd be lucky to get a couple of hours. I took the risk.

"Can I have my gun back now?" I asked. That snapped her from whatever process had stalled her thoughts. Hesitation was in the eyes, she was still trying to work me out. "Mike."

"What?"

"Name's Mike of the 'Flame Tamers' company." I held out my right hand in greeting.

Puzzled she held out her left, after all, that was the hand that was custom for a greeting. I smiled and with a twisted right, I shook her's in greeting. She gave a confused smile as I guided her limp hand up and down.

"Vanessa." Her grip suddenly became firm even through the gloves as if I hit an invisible switch. This girl seemed to work for a living. It's strange how such a benign act of normalcy can pull a person from the brink. "You said you were part of a company. Are there more of you here?"

"Just me I'm afraid. Came up for some early recon, arrived about an hour ago." Her eyes brightened. I quickly crushed the hope of a way out. "Sorry, but I walked, from Winesberg."

"Walked?! 15 miles. In this? She looked me up and down. "I have underwear thicker than that shirt."

"It's insulated" I lied.

"What's with the shoulder thing? Is your company's dress code Musketeer?" Her body relaxed.

"It's more dapper ren-faire, then musketeer." We both gave a chuckle. I was finally getting somewhere. "Okay Vanessa, our best chance is the holdout here and wait until I can get a message through the storm." I softened my voice. "And for that Vanessa, I'm going to need my gun."

There were still a few slivers of reluctance. Another peace offering might be in order I thought. I reached for my vest. My motions were slow, as transparent as possible. The black leather strap popped as I released my remaining hand axe from the holster. I inspected the edge, gave the handle a squeeze then held it out for her.

"We're going to need to trust each other. I don't want to end up a chew toy." I said.

She took the axe feeling its weight by giving it a couple of swipes in the air. Oh, she was definitely a worker.

"As long as it's all of us."

"Of course." I nodded in agreement

"Come on, Mason's got your gun." She took two steps back and over her shoulder warned: "If you screw any of us over for this 'PUFF' thing." She waved the axe over her head. "I'll make sure this finds its way back to you edge first."

"Yes, ma'am." I smiled. That was the potential of a hunter.

She ran over to Dale first. Her hands did a quick check of his vitals. With a satisfied nod, she pulled his coat tight. She motioned back towards me. I fumbled for a bar before handing it to her. She jostled him awake and in a soft voice asked him to eat. He wasn't completely aware but his instincts drove him to eat greedily. He was out as soon as the last piece was swallowed. Vanessa smiled and we moved on.

Mason was an average size man only an inch or two higher than Vanessa if you counted the little orange palm on top of his grey beanie. Matching black snow boots and pants kneeled in the snow as he looked into the alley. Bundled in a thick green coat he seemed ready for his time out here.

I didn't wait for a signal this time. The food was out before we even got close. She took it with a small thanks and greeted Mason with it outstretched.

"Food." Vanessa said.

Mason's hand outstretched over his shoulder waiting for the bar.

"Thank you?" Vanessa asked expectedly.

"Sorry, Thank you." Mason replied. "These things got my manners in a rut."

Mason's face turned to look at her than to me. The man had a full beard of dark brown hair. His features were hard as he gave me a good look over with sunken eyes that had seen a few more years than me but they were still young. I could see he was working things over about me, just as Vanessa did.

"Got anything bigger than the gun?" Mason asked.

"Nope, I don't like the big stuff. Too messy." I said, not like they were an option for me anyway.

His disbelief was shown with squinting eyes but he didn't pursue it any farther. He motioned towards the alley.

"What are those things?" He asked it as if he was a teacher of a troubled student.

Now, why would he think I would know? Did he overhear the conversation with Vanessa? No, that distance was a little far for that. My face must have been cycling through the line of thoughts as Mason was quick to clarify.

"You aren't dressed for deer hunting."

"Fair enough. I'm Mike of the Flame Tamers company and I haven't had a clue on what those creatures are down there."

"Are you sure you haven't?"

I thought of Jenni. She would probably call them by some ancient name, rattling off their habits, diet, even their preferred reproductive position? If I could have asked for one small redo it would of been for better mics.

I wiped the useless hope out of my mind as I made my way to the edge. Vanessa came soon after.

The six beasts sat in the alley, all their eyes were the same ooze orange. They were solid orbs devoid of any pupil like eerily glowing marbles. Their ashin colored bodies hung with the same matted fur as the first. That signature bulge emanated from between each of their shoulder blades with the skin that was cracked and ripped with the same glow. Their muscles were taught and developed, accentuated by skin that seemed to be shrink-wrapped around them. All their snouts pointed skyward peering straight at us, including the one with my axe lodged in its back. They remain still as if the storm had frozen them instantly forming a half-dozen freakish statues. I couldn't be sure if they were even breathing.

"That's still creepy." Vanessa chimed.

"When did these things get here?" I asked.

Both of them remained silent as we stared at the beasts as they stared at us.

"Yesterday." Mason finally said. "It was lucky that this storm was on its way. Most of the people cleared out South or locked themselves on their ranches to wait it out."

Vanessa cut in.

"Not many people live in the town. Most drive in from the ranches or other towns. The only thing open was Logan's. It's a good place, friendly staff with decent beer. That's where most of us were." Vanessa's face turned sour. "They showed up right after the storm picked up. We just got to the bar." She pointed to Mason. "With a couple others. Then Dale and his brother ran in a tizzy. They're normally harmless say for a couple run-ins with the sheriff. Well they ran in and started throwing chairs tables, anything really, against the door. All the while screaming about monsters." She gave a snort. "Thought they were hitting the bowl hard again until one of them, things, burst through the window. Dale's brother started smacking it with a chair until it turned and tackled him behind the bar. People scattered when the other two showed up. One attacked Dale, the other went after Anne. She was so sweet. I tried to get it off her, hit it with everything I could but it just kept... eating her." The recount of it was taking its toll on Vanessa. She paused trying to hold back the signs of tears. Mason took over.

"I pulled the damn thing off Dale, almost lost a few fingers doing it. When it let go, I kicked it hard in the face and then it started fighting the other one over..." He lowered his voice. "Anne."

He gave a glance a Vanessa and continued "I threw Dale over my shoulder. Grabbed Vanessa and got out. Those cowards that ran out first were being chased by the three others creatures. They must have been waiting outside. We saw one of the big ones literally tearing down a door after someone. So we just ran across the street and without thinking climbed up here. We were close to losing Dale, the dumb bastard, he fought me the whole time but I managed it."

"It was the right call." I said remembering the sight of the torn apart houses.

"I know." He replied dryly. "So what was that company you're with again?"

"Flame Tamers."

"Never heard of it. What do you do?"

I went into detail as I did with Vanessa. Explained the 'things' my company was in the business of handling. How we got paid and the MCB. Mason turned his face in displeasure at the mention of the agency. Couldn't blame him, a lot of people distrusted the government, but few have it verified so concretely. Even if it was for their own good.

"So why did you come up here?" He asked curiously.

"Doesn't matter anymore." I juggled the idea of telling them but quickly threw it away. The last thing they needed was the notion of something bigger that may want to eat them.

"Old man James' place?!" Vanessa said the words more to herself than either of us. "I thought it was just a mountain lion that took that horse. When I got out there the old man was lit more than a firework on the 4th. Thought he was talking crazy until I treated his horse for some serious lacerations. Thought a tree fell on it or something." She paused thinking. "Was it these things?" She asked down to the alley.

"Don't know. We were tipped off when a contact overheard the CB chatter from your sheriff."

"Well, whatever it was don't tell me. These bastards are more then enough for now."

Mason turned to me with a cold stare.

"Remember, people, are more important than any bounty." His hand slipped beneath his coat producing my MAC-10.

I tried to take hold of the gun as his grip was hesitant to release.

"People are always priority." I nodded.

There wasn't so much distrust in his eyes as a kind of sadness. The man must have really felt helpless. I thought of saying something but I felt little would come of it. He turned away as he slowly freed his grip.

I took hold of my baby in my right-hand. Thumbing the release the magazine fell to the snow with a dull thud. I whipped the gun to the clip holster. Six extended mags were held horizontally on my right thigh. They were spaced in such a way I could slide the hilt over one without catching the leg or another mag. A quick slap on the butt of the magazine to my thigh hammered it into place. Finally, with a special metal groove at the top of the holster, I inserted the bolt on the top of the gun and racked the first bullet. I smiled.

"I feel much safer now, don't you?"


End file.
